


Unfair Trade

by PacketofRedApples



Series: Ownership [1]
Category: Alan Wake (Video Game)
Genre: (in the form of shadows), M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Mr. Scratch snatches up the keys before Alan can. He decides to give them back in exchange for fun.
Relationships: Mr. Scratch/Alan Wake
Series: Ownership [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636972
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	Unfair Trade

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Unfair Trade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24788815) by [AllenTraduction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllenTraduction/pseuds/AllenTraduction)



> Yeah, I don't know anymore. I lack content, I feel like people don't even want to talk to me anymore. And nobody's writing for this damn ship after all these years. Dammit. My crops are dying, y'all... I beg you.

Entering the motel room, Alan quickly aims and looks around the four walls, till he’s sure they’re vacant. Looking back, there was nobody behind him either, so he goes to look for what he needs. He spots the usual lack of a dead body, but he didn’t think much of it then. As long as the jacket with the keys required hung in its place, Wake wouldn’t mind the sudden change. He heads towards the cloth item, rummages through all the pockets to no avail. It was stripped of the key, but frustration got the better of Alan and he looks over and over as if he missed it.

However, he freezes in spot, when a chuckle comes from behind him. The writer turns to see his double, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe of the room.

“Looking for something?” He inquires only to annoy further, showing then that in his hand he held the keys.

“Give me that!” Wake spouts, lunging towards the suited bastard who doesn’t flinch. Let’s Alan try to pry the keys out of his hand, without letting it up.

“I will in exchange for something.” Mr. Scratch offers, pulling the occupied hand away, in turn, managing to make the Champion stagger slightly towards him. But that was quickly hidden by the writer stepping back.

He hated the idea of bargaining with the Herald, but now was no time for that. Knowing he rarely saw the double this up close, it made him worry about what he might be up to. Well, whatever it was—it won’t be good. But Alan will listen to him, at the least and then decide on a course of action.

“Yeah? Well, what do you want?” Alan tries to let it show he wasn’t pleased as punch about this. But it seems to be good enough for Mr. Scratch as he takes a step or two closer to the other man, grabs onto his shirt and pulls him into very close proximity—so close they touch.

“You give up for one night, and I show you why you should do it for good. Then—then you can have the keys.”

Worry drops into the pit of Alan’s stomach, makes him feel ill. The fear he was feeling, definitely there. He just hoped this didn’t mean that he has managed to somehow act on his promises, hurting those close to him.

“What did you do?” Alan mutters, trying to glare, but more so appearing worried. It obviously struck a nerve and The Herald of Darkness laughs.

“Nothing yet.” He let’s go of Alan’s shirt, pats him with the now free hand on the cheek. “So what do you say? I show you something really nice, and you think it over.”

“What the hell can you possibly show me that’ll be ‘real nice’ by your standards?” Wake steps back again, clenching tighter on his flashlight and gun. He knew they were practically useless against Scratch, but he had no other option. At the very least, they will stall him long enough to escape… hopefully.

“Just sit back and let me take over, buddy. You’ll see.” The Herald doesn’t miss a beat, walking up back to Alan, getting up in his space. It makes the other man step back and back until he hits the bed and ends up collapsing on it. “That’s more like it.”

Alan looks up from his position on the bed, staring up at the Herald like some sort of off-kilter idol, ready to be worshipped. The writer didn’t like this, quite frankly, it made him too uncomfortable. He shifts, lowers his eyes, trying to figure out just what the man wants from him, clearly avoiding the most obvious answer.

“Listen…” Mr. Scratch kneels down before him them, wiggles the keys in front of his face like a toy in front of a dog. “I won’t give this to you unless you agree. So there’s really no option here.”

“And what do you intend to do? Knock a couple of my teeth out? Break my arms? What is it?” Alan sighs, defeated, but still not agreeing.

“No, I think this will be more fun for both of us—I’m going to screw your brains out.”

Alan stares, till it dawns on him the other doesn’t mean it literally—of course, he had the narcissism to do this.

“What? No. I’m not letting you do that.”

“Too late.” Mr. Scratch sing-songs and tackles Alan onto the bed. Shadows manifest to enlace with the writer’s limbs, holding him in place. And with this advantage gained, The Herald’s hand lands between the other’s legs and begins massaging him there, roughly at that. He presses and teases till he feels Alan’s cock involuntarily harden and then some.

He keeps at the heavy petting, letting his hand trace upwards and down across the area of the jeans covering the crotch. Alan winces at the discomfort, tries to break out but the shadowy tentacles are stronger than anything human. Eventually, Wake leans back onto the bed, accidentally thrusting his hips up at the contact and whines out and how good it feels. It really shouldn’t. It has no right to.

Scratch’s free hand traces up Alan’s shirt, sneaks under it to his right nipple and pinches it and the Champion spouts curses at him. Creative ones at that, but The Herald isn’t surprised, instead, he keeps circling both areas. And Alan shuts his eyes, trying to regain composure.

Scratch’s hand grips at the clothed dick, puts pressure on it that evicts Alan to moan. Then he continues with the caressing. It doesn’t last much longer, not because the doppelganger decides to move on just yet, but because Alan yells out and it becomes obvious from the wet spot underneath Scratch’s hand that the other came.

“That didn’t last long.” He comments, amused. “Must have been a long while since you last had so much fun.” He then leans in and kisses Alan, and for a second the writer thinks this might be over. Spouts a ‘fuck you’ for good measure, but The Herald laughs, and adds: “That’s the idea.” Then he unzips his mirror image’s pants, whips out his twitching cum covered dick and leans over it. Shoots a glance up at the writer who watches him, frustrated, terrified and most of all too aware.

Not good enough yet. Not the result he wants…

He begins licking the member clean, swallowing each drop of the precious liquid. Alan begins to reel from the contact. It gets worse when the other’s mouth envelopes it, begins to bop around it, tongue greedily licking the sensitive flesh. A cold hand finds its spot on his erection, strokes it continuously along the motion.

Mr. Scratch is aware that it must be too much, too quick, but he’ll keep at it. At this point, as it keeps building up in Alan, it feels almost painful but not quite yet. That is until the Herald’s hand strides bravely to squeeze his balls, not roughly mind you, but enough to send Alan into a pained moaning fit. The shadow double finds this amusing and chuckles, the vibration echoing around the writer's cock. Once again, it doesn’t take long before Alan yelps once more. Cum filling the doppelganger's mouth, he takes it upon himself to swallow it all.

Sore, slightly dazed now and most of all, exhausted—Wake collapses completely into the bed like a rag doll. Closed eyes, he feels the hands lift from him and he anticipated the ends finally. But when the shadows don’t move and he hears another zipper, he knows he’s out of luck. He doesn’t open them the entire time as he hears shuffling from atop of him, the sound of several things being flung across the room doesn’t even bother with it when the other starts to remove his pants. Once they’re both naked to the half, Alan still lays shut off from the world at least visually. By the point he is flipped over in the bed, he’s too tired to bother fighting back. Just allows it.

The one thing he doesn’t see coming since he picked up that this won’t end quickly, was the fact that the other began gently. He presses in two fingers into his entrance, sure, but it’s better than going straight in. At least Alan assumes so.

Scratch moves his digits carefully inside, loosening him at first, till Alan whines at the contact to one very specific spot. Then, as if possessed by some new realization, the Herald begins mercilessly, pressing into it.

“S- stop…please.” Alan finally musters up. The double complies, moves fingers out. Wake sighs, clinging to the pillow harder for a second before the other man takes it out of his hold and shoves it under his stomach. Defeated Alan finally opens his eyes, glances back at the other making himself comfortable. Watches him angle himself, take his already hard dick into his hands and aligns it with Wake’s entrance. He surprisingly looks up at the writer, as if to check up and smirks when he spots the identical blue orbs fixed on him. Alan looks back in front of him, lays his head onto the awful mattress and shuts his eyes.

Still, the usual smart mouth remains quiet and slides into the man.

At first, it’s uncomfortable, seriously so, but then with some more adjustments from Scratch before he begins moving it becomes almost decent. The Herald rocks back and forth, adjusting slightly at first before he hears Alan whimper.

“Bingo.” The shadow double chuckles out, before moving back and then once again forward. He repeats this motion, provoking the writer to sob out more and more. He adds more force into each thrust, knowing he’s really hurting Alan. Sure, it has a sliver of feeling good, but mainly, he’s too sensitive currently for this. He’s too weak, as well. Alan’s dick, to the writer’s misfortune, rubs against the pillow beneath him, causing more stimuli. The Herald’s hands grip tightly onto his hips, press so rough it causes more pain.

“What a good boy, Alan, just keeps crying out. We’ll keep doing this till you say my name.”

“Please—“ Alan whines back, feeling the familiar sensation building in him. “Scratch, please.” He tries, to even this out.

“Not good enough, I need more conviction.”

Alan wants to grasp at something but it’s difficult when the shadows hold his hands just slightly too high.

“Oh-oh god.” Alan cries.

“I’m not that high and mighty, sorry. Sorry, try again.” Scratch is too amused by this, laughs at it himself, adds more motion into his dick and to nobody’s surprise, Alan arrives at his third orgasm that night, with nothing more than a feral scream.

“Oh?” Scratch says as he doesn’t stop moving if anything—he’s moving with more energy than before. “Let’s try again, then.”

Alan feels drained, too drained to do whatever but let this happen. He’s in serious pain at this point, he doesn’t know if his dick can let this happen again. Weak moans escape him and he’s more so surprised Scratch can keep going.

The moving inside him continues, but then there’s the added bonus of Mr. Scratch letting go of his hips, and sliding to his dick to begin to milk him over everything.

This time, the doppelganger gets what he wants. Alan forces himself, just as his orgasms hits for what he hopes is the last time that night, to cry out his name. The ‘Scratch’ leaves his mouth with full distortion, and this time he’s not just coming all over himself. The Herald fills him up, shooting his load inside and only then slides out.

“Attaboy, Alan.” Scratch coaxes, leaning over him and lying down dangerously close. His hands rise to his mouth, licking off the excess from his palms. Only then does the writer realize the other is panting.

It isn’t much more he remembers from there on out, having passed out, but he does recall Scratch stroking his hair, kissing his back. It makes Alan ill, however, just like the rest of it, so he surpasses that. The same goes for the comment from the other: ‘Can’t wait to do this again.’ he said.

At least the god damn keys were on the bedside table when he awoke.


End file.
